


Going Her Own Way

by misscheesiest



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Male Art Models, Massage, Mostly lots of Hetero Smut, Multiple Partners, Nude Modeling, Oral Sex, Rejection of Slut Shaming, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 03:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18130295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misscheesiest/pseuds/misscheesiest
Summary: He was gorgeous. Thick, dark hair artfully tousled, enhancing his deep blue eyes and chiseled jaw. His designer suit flowed over his gym-perfected body. Women nearby kept staring at him, and giving Rose envious looks for being his date.Pity he was such an extreme bore...At a fancy gala, Rose ends up fooling around with the help.It leads her on a very different path of self-discovery.





	1. Chapter 1

He was gorgeous. Thick, dark hair artfully tousled, enhancing his deep blue eyes and chiseled jaw. His designer suit flowed over his gym-perfected body. Women nearby kept staring at him, and giving Rose envious looks for being his date.

Pity he was such an extreme bore.

Rose tried to keep eye contact as Jacob launched into another story about his business triumphs. She nodded, having learned in the last hour that no other response was needed to keep him talking. Across the room, her mother caught Rose's eye and gave an approving nod.

It was the final nail in this coffin of a date.

As Jacob droned on, Rose pondered different ways to cut out of the date early. _Get totally wasted and loud, until someone pours me into a taxi? Fake illness? Family emergency?_

Rose lifted her hand to take the last sip of her red wine, when someone knocked her arm. The tipped wine glass sloshed the wine onto her neckline of her teal dress.

"Shit!" Rose jumped back, pulling at the damp fabric.

"Oh, my apologies, mademoiselle," said the uniformed server who had bumped her. He offered a pristine white napkin. Rose glared at him and snatched the napkin, dabbing at the stain.

"If you come with me, we have something in the back that could help with that." Rose glanced up at the server, meeting his dark eyes. He seemed sincere, and it was worth trying to get the stain out before it dried.

Rose shrugged, and turned to Jacob. "See you in a bit, I guess." Jacob hadn't even offered to help. What an ass.

Turning, she scanned the room to find the server. He already taken several long strides away and she had to scamper to catch up. He led her down a hallway, past the washrooms and the kitchen entrance, and opened an unmarked door near the end of the hall. It was a small office, with a desk, paperwork, computer, storage boxes and a battered old leather sofa.

He waved her in. "Make yourself at home. I'll get a couple things and be right back."

Rose stepped in, pulling the neckline of her dress out to see how bad the stain was. Barely a minute passed before the server returned with a small tray. He set it down on the desk. He picked up some folded white fabric and held it out to Rose.

"It's a tablecloth. It will be easiest to work on your dress if you take it off. You can cover up with this."

Rose let out a quick laugh. Was he kidding? Strip in front of a waiter? But looking down at her dress, she shrugged and thought _Well, what else can I do?_

Turning, she put her back to the server. "Unzip me?" she asked softly, and soon felt his hands on her dress, slipping the long zipper down her spine. Her breath caught. Suddenly, she realized she was alone with a stranger. An attractive stranger who had just unzipped her dress and wanted to take it off.

_Get ahold of yourself, Rose._ She turned towards the server. "Turn around for a second, would you?"

He respectfully turned, and Rose slipped the dress off, and wrapped the tablecloth around her body like a towel, tucking the corner in securely. Stepping over to the desk, she laid out the dress, looking at the damage. The server came to stand beside her.

He sprang into action confidently, placing a towel on the desk and draping the stained area of the dress over it. Popping open a can of club soda, he drizzled a little over the area, gently dabbing the fabric. After a few minutes, he picked up the dress and carried it over to the stand up light stand.

"hmmm... still showing a little...." He laid the dress out again, and this time picked up a bottle of white wine, diving a hand into his pocket for a bottle opener.

"Why are you opening up that wine?" Rose stepped closer, curious.

"The white wine can help draw the color out, diluting the stain. Worth a try while the stain is still wet." After a few minutes, he backed off and waved at the dress.

Rose stepped forward, and looked over the dress carefully. The stain was gone, with only the damp patch remaining. "That's incredible!"

The server took a mocking bow, smiling at her amazed expression.

"I don't even know your name to thank you properly."

"Jean-Michel." He held out his hand, and Rose shook it.

"Rose." She returned his warm smile.

"It will take a few minutes to dry. Would you like a glass of this wine while you wait?" Rose nodded, and laughed when Jean-Michel pulled a napkin away from the tray, revealing 2 wine glasses.

"That looks premeditated!"

Jean-Michel smiled. "Well, I knew I wouldn't need the full bottle of wine for the stain & it shouldn't go to waste." He poured out the wine, and handed one to her. He sat down on the sofa, sighing as he took a long inhalation of the wine.

Rose sat on the edge of the sofa, holding onto the top of the tablecloth to keep it in place. Taking a long sip of the wine, she moaned. "Oh my, this is delicious! What is this?"

Grabbing the bottle, he showed her the label. It was a French vintage, and as he described the wine, Rose became increasingly aware of him as a man. His hair was a light brown, with long bangs tumbling over his forehead from his side part. His French accent was evident, but not so strong she couldn't easily understand him. As he raved over the flavors of the wine, Rose felt drawn in by his intense eyes and the passion he brought to his subject.

Rose realized that she had finished her wine, and held out her glass towards Jean-Michel to refill. She shifted to sit back on the sofa, feeling relaxed for the first time all night, closing her eyes to savor a long sip of the wine.

"Ah... Rose..." Jean-Michel said softly, and Rose opened her eyes to look over at him. His eyes flicked downward, and Rose eyes followed where he was looking. The tablecloth had loosened, gaping open and showing her strapless bra.

She chuckled, and shifted to pull the tablecloth back in place.

Jean-Michel placed a hand on her's, stilling it. She looked up at him questionly, loving how close he seemed suddenly. "You must have spilled a little of the red wine down inside your dress also." Looking down, Rose could some spots of red wine on her pale skin. She moved the tablecloth edge and rubbed at it ineffectively.

"It's dried, I think. Can you hand me the club soda?" Rose looked up at Jean-Michel and froze, the heated expression as he gazed at her breasts in the black lacy bra.

"I have another idea." Jean-Michel said softly, and he leaned forward, tracing his lips along the lacy edge. Rose moaned, leaning back against the sofa cushions, jumping when he licked her skin.

"I like this way of wine tasting. You enhance the flavor greatly." He kissed over her cleavage, the slight whiskers on his chin scratching against her tender skin. Reaching over, he dipped his fingers into his wineglass, and giving Rose a heated glance, dragged the moisture over her upper breasts, and following the trail with his lips and tongue.

Rose tilted his face up to hers, and gave him a hot kiss, tasting the wine on his mouth. The kiss continued, deep and intense. Jean-Michel's hands slid to her back, and she could feel his deft fingers undoing her bra. Rose smiled, loving that she was having this adventure with a server in an office at a formal event. Anyone could walk in, at any minute, and reveal her for the slut she was.

The thought made her even hotter. She slid her hands over Jean-Michel, wishing he was naked. His uniform was a white buttoned up jacket and dress pants. Moving her hands to his pants, she traced his hard cock through the material. Jean-Michel moaned, taking her nipple into his mouth to suck.

Unzipping his pants, she released his thick cock, stroking it with her right hand.

Jean-Michel moaned, and shifted her to be lying on the sofa lengthwise on her back, and moved up to straddle her waist. "Such a hot, little slut..." he whispered, stroking his cock, looking down at her breasts. Rose loved it, reveling in the moment.

Grabbing his wine glass, Jean-Michel up-ended it over Rose, letting the wine splash down over her nipples, dribbling over her breasts and soaking into the tablecloth pooled below her. Rose gasped at the sensation, and Jean-Michel moved forward, rubbing his cock over her breasts, spreading the wine over her skin. Then he raised up, offering his dripping cock to Rose. She eagerly accepted his offer, lapping up the wine from his hardness, slurping it off his erection, taking the head of his cock into her mouth to savor the taste of the wine overlaid with his essence.

Jean-Michel moved back, sucking up the remaining wine from Rose's breasts, lapping around them eagerly, leaving no part of her skin uncleaned. She writhed in pleasure, and parted her legs when his fingers slid into her lacy panties. Soon, he was tugging them down, leaving Rose naked except for her heels and jewelry.

"Come here and fuck me, my fancy slut." Jean-Michel sat on the sofa, reaching into a pocket to pull out a condom package. Rose smiled, sliding the condom down over his hard length. Standing, she straddled him, face-to-face, sliding down onto him, moaning as he filled her so well. Jean-Michel grabbed her ass, and she rode him, bouncing on him hard and fast. She was too hot to go slow, and being naked in this public room with the door unlocked made her want to scream out her pleasure, almost tempted to be noisier than normal to draw someone to burst in on them. She tamped down these wicked impulses.

"Get up a second, sexy..." Jean-Michel panted, and he got off the sofa, turning her around, and bending her over. In seconds, he was slamming into her from behind, and Rose bent over, bracing her legs against his thrusts, and pushing back to meet him. Reaching out, she was able to grab the edge of the heavy desk, feeling Jean-Michel grabbing and stroking her ass as he pounded into her cunt.

"Yes, yes.... " Rose gasped, her orgasm peaking, and Jean-Michel motions were a blur as he did several last few strokes, joining her as he came, grabbing her shoulders to hold her in place, his cock deep as it could get.

After a few minutes on the sofa, Jean-Michel sighed. "As much as I want to pour a glass of wine over that freshly fucked cunt, and suck up every drop of your juice mixed with the wine, I guess I'd better get back to work."

Sated, Rose just watched Jean-Michel straighten his clothes and laughed to herself that he had kept his clothes on & she was naked. Wiping the tablecloth over her skin, she dried off and put her underwear back on. Jean-Michel helped her put the dress back on, and the stain was invisible. Grabbing her purse, she was able to tidy up her make-up, but the French braid was beyond saving. She undid it with deft fingers, letting the long curls drape over her shoulders.

Turning back to Jean-Michel, she was surprised to see the heat back in Jean-Michel eyes. "Your hair... I didn't realize it was so long and curly. I want to see it over your naked skin. Meet with me later. We can continue..." Jean-Michel whispered, pulling her in for another hot kiss that almost had Rose taking her dress off again. His hands dug deep into her curls, holding her captive for his attentions.

"Yes, later..." Rose nodded, gave him a wicked smile. She stepped into the hallway, grateful it was empty and popped into the washroom to tidy up some more. She spritzed a bit of perfume on, wondering if she smelled of wine and sex, but didn't really care if she did.

Back with Jacob, she apologized for the long absence, explaining they got the stain out & then had to let it dry. He nodded, and turned back to his conversation with a colleague. A couple minutes later, Rose excused herself and drifted away, slipping a note with her address on it to Jean-Michel, and headed home, with about an hour before Jean-Michel was done work to have a quick shower and get into her sexiest lingerie. An hour to anticipate all the dirty things they would do the rest of the night.

...

-I wrote this about 5 years ago. Thanks for reading！


	2. Chapter 2

He was the most expensive gigolo in the whole city. Aside from his model good looks and fit body, what made him in such high demand was his attention to his lovers, their pleasure paramount, and he was tireless in his pursuit of it.

His hands were pushing Rose's legs wide, and she surrendered to the sensation, relaxing as he cupped her ass, and flicked his tongue over and around her clit. He seemed to have all day, and kept up a slow pace, until Rose was raising her hips to press her cunt against his mouth, silently begging for more. His fingers slid into her wet pussy, pressing firmly against her g-spot, his mouth finally giving her the intense attention her clit needed. In seconds, she was shaking, gasping, moaning, and he kept it up, her orgasm seeming to go on forever.

"Oh, you are worth every dime I pay you." Rose sighed, her eyes closed as she drifted off.

"Pay me?" Jean-Michel chuckled, shifting up on the bed and spooning behind Rose. He rubbed his hard cock against her ass, and she pushed back, loving how he felt.

Rose shifted her legs, feeling Jean-Michel push into her wet pussy, his hands coming around to cup her breasts. They rocked together slowly, and Rose savored how well they fit together, and how perfectly his cock felt, perfectly thick and long enough for her cunt, her mouth.

"Yes, you are hired talent for the night, here for my pleasure." Rose smiled, squeezing her inner muscles, hearing Jean-Michel gasp with the sensation.

"No, you are my little whore, my little fuck toy." Jean-Michel rolled Rose onto her front, and then drew her ass up. Fucking doggy style, his fingers played and tugged on her nipples. His rhythm was fast, urgent, and Rose knew he was close. Jean-Michel pounded her cunt, fucking her selfishly, for his pleasure, and she loved it.

"Yes, fuck that cunt. Use it. Fill me up with all that lovely cum," Rose panted, shoving her ass up with each thrust.

"Fuck, yes.... " Jean-Michel moaned, biting into her back as he came.

A couple minutes later, Jean-Michel had the condom off and was laying back on his back, relaxed. Rose cuddled up to his side, her fingers dragging back and forth over his chest.

"That was so good." Rose kissed his chest.

Jean-Michel yawned, stretching. "Yup, I'm damn good."

Rose laughed. "You sure are," her hand slid down, cupping his soft cock. She loved how it felt, the skin so silky, the roundness of his balls filling her hands. Shifting, she leaned over and took him in her mouth, liking the slight taste of his cum that lingered. He filled her mouth so well. She let his cock out of her mouth and took his balls in instead, sucking and licking on them gently. Letting them go, she kissed his cock and laid back, pulling the covers up.

Jean-Michel laughed. "What, that's it?"

Rose turned onto her side, away from him. "Sure, aren't we done for the night? I was just sucking you as kind of a thank you for the great sex we just had."

"I thought we were done too, until you were sucking my balls. Then things changed."

Rose smiled, and pulled the covers back down, diving for his cock. Licking, stroking and sucking, she soon had him rock hard and panting, calling her name.

After two months, it was still pretty amazing that the sex was still so good. She often wondered what made it like that. Just good chemistry, or was it that she wasn't trying to push a definition on what they had? They hung out, had sex, but there was no official relationship. They didn't date. Rose just felt free to enjoy her time with him.  
Jean-Michel worked as a server as special functions, so his schedule was erratic, but it paid the bills & freed up the rest of his time. His main passion was painting, large vibrant paintings. And lately, making Rose cum again and again and again.

Rose hadn't been to any galas since the one where she met Jean-Michel. She avoided her mother as much as possible, keeping to quick phone calls when she felt it was needed to keep her at bay. After years of trying to please her mother, being the perfect little heiress, dating all the potential husband types pre-approved by her parents, it still felt strange not to hop to her mother's bidding.

The last few months had been freeing. She been hanging out with Jean-Michel whenever possible, and dating other men. Luckily, she had enough savings from a partial trust fund payout to live on for a few months.

The sunlight was warm, and Rose stretched out, loving the sensation over her bare skin. She closed her eyes and smiled.

"You were definitely a cat in a past life, my dear." Jean-Michel drawled, coming out of the bathroom in just a towel.

Rose opened her eyes, and the sight of his wet hair and clean skin made her envision licking drops of water off him. "Hmmmm.... Come over here for a minute, would ya?"

Jean-Michel glanced over at her and chuckled. "I know that look. A minute will be an hour and then I'll have to take another shower." Grabbing underwear out of the dresser, he dropped the towel and pulled them on. Black boxer briefs. Her favorite.

Rose growled. "Quit being such a tease! Get over here!"

Jean-Michel just shook his head, and soon was in dark jeans and a black long sleeve t-shirt. "I've got class, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Rose pouted. "What am I supposed to do all day without you?"

Jean-Michel paused, and looked over at her, a considering look in his eye. "Well, actually.... There is a spot open in the class, if that wouldn't be too weird."

Rose sat up, hugging her knees. "Really? I wouldn't stick out as an outsider or something?"

Jean-Michel shrugged. "Nah, it's a pretty relaxed atmosphere." He grabbed her hands, pulling her out of the bed and into his arms. "Give it a try."

His kiss was a tender one, and Rose marveled at how much she enjoyed being with him. His laid back, accepting attitude. So different than her old world, where everyone had to look and act perfectly, always worried about what other people thought.

Rose glanced down at her rumpled long t-shirt. "Is there time to get ready?"

Jean-Michel nodded, looking very pleased. "You got 10 minutes."

Five minutes later, they were on their way in his mini. Rose had only had a quick shower and thrown her long red curls into a messy topknot. A funky 60s-inspired mini-dress she'd found in a second hand store, leggings and boots were quick to throw on. Some thick cat eye black eyeliner and mascara was all the make-up she bothered with.

Jean-Michel led her into the small studio, and pointed to an empty chair. As Rose got settled, he strode to the front of the group.

"OK, everybody. We are continuing today with our charcoal studies of the human form. I want to see large big strokes, capturing the long lines of the body, not fine details. Our models today will all have only short sitting times, so use your time well." Jean-Michel nodded to the students, and circled around them, sitting at their easels, as they gathered their materials. Rose followed their example, clipping the paper to her easel and finding charcoal.

Looking up, she realized the model had arrived, and all the students were quickly filling their papers with bold strokes, peeping their heads towards the front of the class and then back to their work. Rose shifted her chair to have a better viewing angle, and froze. Lying on a bed in the center of the room was a beautiful naked man. He was on his back, with one leg bent and the foot flat on the bed, totally relaxed in his nudity in front of all the artists.

Jean-Michel circled around to behind Rose, chuckling. "You better get drawing, Rose."

She jumped, and caught his laughing glance. She rolled her eyes, and setting her shoulders straight, grabbed the charcoal and set it to the page. She didn't overthink it, but just let her fingers, her hands, go. Sunk right into the moment.

By the end of the hour, her hands were aching, and the last model was slipping on his robe to leave the studio.

"OK, everyone, consider these studies. Look through this work this week and select one of the images to develop into a more detailed drawing and submit them both next class." Jean-Michel seemed every inch the art professor, as he wound up the session, answering questions about the assignment. The students rushed out, running for their next class.

Jean-Michel pulled a stool over to Rose. "How did you like it?"

Rose paused from gathering her papers together. "Well, I certainly enjoyed the subject matter! Did you pick this particular class for me, knowing there would be so many yummy naked men?"

His smirk gave him away. "I figured even if the drawing bored you, you'd at least have some eye candy." He waved towards her work. "Mind if I...?"

Rose shook her head, and hopped off the stool. There was a water fountain just outside in the hall, and she took her time there. When she returned, Jean-Michel gave her a long look.

"What?" Rose asked, not sure how to read that expression on his face.

His eyes were assessing her, serious. "We haven't really talked about our pasts that much, have we? Did you take art classes before?"

Rose laughed, "Hardly. Mommy dearest thought dabbling in the arts was best left to the professionals. It was OK to fund the arts, attend gallery openings and the opera."

Jean-Michel shook his head. "Well, then you have some serious natural talent, Rose. Even from your first sketches to the last ones of this class, I can see your skills developing."

Rose searched his face for a teasing grin, a wink. But he was serious. Rose blushed, and gathered up the papers, feeling pleased. But maybe it was just her lover talking, being kind.

*****

Candlelight flicked, dimly illuminating his dark skin. Rose's eyes traced over his sculpted chest, loving the way the white dress shirt hung open, only revealing some skin and leaving the rest to her imagination. His intelligent dark eyes followed her every move, his mouth sometimes tightening into a charming smirk, his full lips framed by the black goatee and five o'clock shadow.

"Are you going to be done soon, lass?" Rose smiled at his impatience. His deep voice had a mild English accent, and Rose swore it travelled right through her body, warming her to her core.

Rose glanced up from her work, meeting his gaze. "Can you last another five minutes? I'll make it worth your while." She gave him a slow smile, and was happy to see him returning it. His eyes warmed, and she could feel his gaze travelling over her body, warming her as much as his voice had. Rose let out a slow breath, trying to keep her attention on the paper.

Finally, she put down the charcoal, and leaned back on the stool, stretching her back. She got up and strolled over to James.

"OK, time for your reward. Take off your shirt and roll over onto your belly." She smiled as he had his shirt off in seconds, and was spread out in front of her. She clambered onto the bed, straddling his legs, and grabbed the bottle from the nearby table.

James moaned as the warm oil drizzled over his back, and her hands smoothed it over his skin. After the work at her easel, it felt good to stretch over his prone form to reach his shoulders, kneading her fingers into his muscles. She loved how she could find the tightness and ease it away within minutes, feeling him relaxing more and more under her.

"They told me you had magic hands, but I had no idea it would be this good." James breathed, sighing as she pushed the heels of her hands into his lower back.

Rose moved off him, and pulled off her t-shirt. "My turn." She announced, lying face down on the bed beside him.

James sat up, and placed a hand on her back. "But I have no idea what to do."

Rose laughed, "You won't get out of it with a lame excuse like that. Put some oil on my back and rub it around. Do things to me that you liked being done to you. I tell you if you are screwing up, don't worry."

After a couple seconds, Rose felt a squirt of oil on her lower back, and James tentatively rubbed it around. "I don't want to get it on your bra."

Rose lifted up slightly and undid the front clasp. James helped her slip it off with his non-oily hand. She sighed to feel his large hands stroking the oil over her back. "Mmmmmm yes, right there." She moaned, and he worked harder on her shoulders.

"I didn't think this was part of our deal."

"Well, officially no.... but you are doing it quite well."

"Yes, but we agreed that I would be your model for an hour, and you would give me an hour of massage."

Rose chuckled. "You should have specified that I would be the one massaging. There is massage going on, so I think it counts as part of the hour."

James hands paused their motions, and then picked up again. "Hmmmm... I think it's time for you to massage me again. But I'll drop it to only 15 more minutes if you do it topless."

She could see where this was going, but her own thoughts were already there. "OK, deal." She sat up, and James' eyes travelled over her body, taking in her medium sized breasts, the nipples hard and a raspberry pink against her fair skin. "Lie down, James."

He smiled, and laid down on his back, his eyes daring her. She shrugged, and straddled his hips, and poured the oil over his chest. The chest she'd spent most of the hour drawing and admiring. His eyes were on her breasts, watching as they swayed with her motions. Rose could feel the nipples get even harder, and her pussy was getting very wet.

Shifting slightly, she settled her weight over his hips, only his jeans and her leggings separating them. He felt very hard and thick against her warmth, and she stroked his stomach, teasing along the waistband of his jeans.

James eyes met hers and held, hot and dark. His large hands went to her hips, pulling her down even harder against him as he raised his hips slightly, rubbing his erection firmly between her legs. Rose closed her eyes, moaning. She rotated her hips slightly, grinding against him. James reached up and cupped her breasts, his large hands covering them entirely and his thumbs rubbing her nipples.

He sat up, and Rose met him halfway, their mouths meeting in a hot kiss, hands everywhere, hungry. After a few seconds, he dumped her onto her back, standing beside the bed, and was peeling down her leggings and panties.

Rose laid back on the bed, panting, and watched as James stood over her, and unzipped his jeans. His eyes were dragging slowly over her body as he pushed his clothes off, naked and magnificent in front of her.

"Turn over." He ordered, and Rose scrambled to obey. On all fours, she trembled when he ran his hand over her ass, and then traced over her pussy lips. "Mmmmm so hot and wet already, aren't you?"

Rose pushed back against his hand, so horny, "Yes, James, I need you so much."

"What do you need, Rose?" His voice was low, raspy with his arousal.

"I need your cock. Please." Rose lowered her head to the bed, sticking her ass back towards him, and widening her knees, shameless in her need.

He rubbed his cock between her legs, letting it get very wet with her juices, tracing it over the lips, her clit, teasing.

"James, please..." Rose moaned, pushing back.

"Please what, my little slut?"

"Please fuck me.... Please fuck me with that beautiful cock..."

James pushed into her cunt, one hard quick thrust, all the way in. Rose cried out, almost cumming from that alone. He stayed deep inside her, feeling almost too thick, too long, almost uncomfortably too much even though she was so wet and ready. But he started some small thrusts, staying deep, giving her time to get used to his size. Rose moaned, meeting each thrust.

His hands grabbed her hips, and he started fucking her hard and fast, pounding deep into her cunt with each stroke, long fast strokes almost all the way out and then back in deep. Standing beside the bed, he was at the perfect height to push in deeply, bringing her ass back to meet him each time. He was fucking her at his own tempo, taking his pleasure, and Rose loved it.

"Yes yes yes yes.... Fuck me..." she moaned, lost in the sensations. James found her favorite spot, and she shuddered against him. He realized it, and angled his strokes perfectly, and in seconds she was gasping, pulsating around his erection.

Rose collapsed against the bed, catching her breath, and moaned as James withdrew. She rolled over onto her back, and watched as he took off the condom, his cock still thick and hard.

"Come here..." Rose smiled up at him, and James climbed over her. Rose reached out and wrapped her hand around his erection, stroking it slowly. James crawled further up her body, and Rose guided him to her mouth, rubbing his cockhead against her lips. She opened her mouth and felt his cock sliding along her tongue. He was so thick and hard. He pulled his cock out of her mouth, and pushed his balls against her lips. She kissed them, and sucked one into her mouth.

"Yes, suck hard..." James moaned. His hand was around his saliva-wet cock, stroking it. Rose licked and sucked his balls, switching between both. He pushed his cock against her mouth at times, and she sucked it, getting it really wet. He seemed to like it best when she had both balls in her mouth, sucking and rolling them against her tongue, while he stroked furiously.

She could tell he was really close, and when he pulled his balls out of her mouth, he shoved his cockhead into her mouth. ‘Suck it, lick it.... Take my cum..." he moaned, his hand still stroking the shaft. Rose looked up at him, and his eyes were on her mouth, her lips, her tongue flicking against the head of his cock. She watched as he reached his peak, his face tensing a second before she felt his cock twitch and the first big shot of cum hit her tongue. She kept her mouth open, loving seeing his pleasure, and feeling shot after shot of his cum filling her mouth, and dribbling down her neck. She met his gaze, and closed her mouth, swallowing his cum and opening her mouth to show him it was all gone.

James laid down beside Rose, on his side. He reached over, and scooped up the cum that had dribbled out of her mouth. He rubbed his cum-wet fingertips over her nipples, making them hard again, and then surprised Rose by leaning over and sucking them clean, before lying down beside her on his back.

"Do you do this with all your models?" He asked.

The candle spurted and went out, burnt all the way down. In total darkness, Rose turned on her side towards him. "Pick them up in the bar or where ever, asking them to be my artist model in exchange for a massage, and then fuck them silly?"

James chuckled, a lazy, satisfied chuckle. "Yes, that."

Rose rolled onto her back, and stretched her arms over her head. "Hmmmm..... well, not ALL of my models. Some of them just end up leaving after a one-sided massage."

Even in the darkness, she could tell James was smiling.

"Can I see your drawing of me?"

"Um, sure.... But it's only a preliminary sketch.... A little on the rough side." Rose rolled off the bed, and lit another candle. She turned the easel around, letting James see the sketch. He got up off the bed, and picked up the candle, holding it close to the drawing and looking at it for several minutes.

"Is that what I look like to you?" James turned to her, his expression pleased.

"Well, that is me looking at you with horny eyes, mentally stripping you and imaging your body."

"And now that you have carnal knowledge of me, how would I look to you?"

Rose looked James over thoroughly, standing before her completely naked in the candlelight, 6' of tall, dark and handsome.

"Well, lie back down and I'll draw you, and we'll see."

And when he laid down, she had a hard time getting up and leaving him to draw.

..


	3. Chapter 3

The gallery was set up for dramatic revealing of one painting of a time, a maze of partitions directing the flow of attendees through the exhibit. The walls were painted black, and only the paintings were brightly lit in the dark warehouse space. It was dramatic, and meant to shock.

The first work was of James. The painting was about 6' by 6', filling the whole wall, and making the image almost life-sized. He was laying across the rumpled bed, his naked body completely relaxed, his head tilted back and off to the side, away from the viewer. There was care and attention in every brush stroke, and the rich darkness of his skin contrasting beautifully with the creamy sheets and comforter.

Rose watched Alistair, the art critic for a major newspaper, as he looked over her work, waiting for his questions, but he was silent. After a lifetime at her mother's side, she quickly catalogued his charcoal grey suit as a Calvin Klein, perfectly tailored to his fit frame. It complimented his salt and pepper hair.

After a few minutes, Alistair followed the path to the next work, and then the next. Rose was glad to have scheduled this time with him before the official opening, to be able to be with him without the crowds. To see the reaction of a true art critic and writer. Not a friend, but someone unafraid to be brutally honest.

Nerves and excitement battled inside Rose as they reached the last piece. Like the others, it was a life-sized picture of a naked man on her bed. This time is was Jean-Michel, and he was lying on the back, looking straight into the eyes of the viewer. Rose had tried so hard to capture that moment, that expression, and she felt pleased with the result. Without showing anything graphic, it was clear that he was right at the start of his orgasm, that moment when there is that rush of endorphins and one feels they have reached the peak, and there is nothing but to savor the pleasure. It was a look she treasured seeing on his face, loved being on her knees above him, and grinding her cunt down on him tirelessly, knowing he was getting closer and closer. The painting was only of his upper body, his hands tight on the rails of the headboard above his head.

Alistair was before this painting longer than the others, his eyes intent but it was hard for Rose to judge his real reaction. Rose wandered off to the reception area beyond, pouring them a couple glasses of red wine and sitting on one of the black leather benches.

"Were they all your lovers?" He asked, breaking the silence as he took a seat beside her, and taking a sip of his wine.

She was thankful for the large dark sunglasses she wore. Sure, it was a cliché of an artist, but they were wonderful to hide behind and view the world with, letting her eyes go wherever they chose.

His eyes weren't hidden though, and Rose smiled to herself as they travelled over her body thoroughly. The top was a halter style, tying behind her neck and draping down over her breasts, the silky black material revealing a fair bit of cleavage. Her shoulders and arms were bare, except for some chunky bangles on one wrist. Her long curls were tamed into a bit of a beehive, a little tribute to the late Amy Winehouse. Wide, full pants in a drapy material covered her legs. It was an outfit she found in a vintage store, and would have never worn to one of her mother's galas. His eyes were not straying far from her cleavage.

Rose nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course."

Alistair's eyes widened at that slightly, and Rose smiled to herself. This man wasn't that much older that she was, maybe late 40's or early 50's. Was he that much of a traditionalist? Was a woman's sexuality so blatantly on display still an issue?

"Your agent mentioned that this is your first show, and that you have only been working in art for about a year?"

Rose nodded. "That's correct. I had never tried drawing before a friend introduced it to me last summer. I ended up exploring it, renting a house down by the beach with large windows, and just letting my paintbrush free reign."  
"And your male subjects were all aware of the intimacy of your work?"

Rose smiled at his phrasing of the question. He meant to ask if the men were aware that the painting would be so graphic. "Yes. They have all seen and approved of the art. Many of them will be at the opening tonight, if you want to speak with them."

"What do you want to say with these pieces?"

"Hmmmmm..." Rose stalled, searching for the right words as she took a long sip of her wine. "In art, there are many beautiful painting of women, very sensual paintings, where you can tell the artist truly appreciated his subject. I wanted to do a similar painting, showing the beauty of men from the view of an appreciative female eye. "

Alistair nodded, and soon he was shaking her hand, thanking her for her time before he headed out of the gallery.

***

The next few hours were a buzz of activity. The newspaper's photographer came and took pictures of the pieces, and a few of Rose, still in her large sunglasses, for the art review. The picture was in a shadowy corner of the reception area, so Rose hoped the picture was mysterious enough. She was going by the name Rose Black now, choosing a persona for the artist when in the public eye with the help of her agent.

She had pondered long about that. But doing the art under another name gave her freedom from the past. Nowhere in her art bio would her mother's family be mentioned. The art was hers alone. Plus, the name and ‘costume' would give her freedom in her day-to-day life, if her art was as successful as her agent promised it would be.

The opening was busy from the start, friends of Jean-Michel‘s circle and the people she had met in the last year. But also many people of the art world her agent had invited, being influential enough to bring them out on her recommendation. She dragged Rose from person to person at the reception, all-eager to speak with her.

The crowd seemed happy and talkative, but Rose had a hard time getting a read of the reaction. It could be all the alcohol, after all. Rose had had her share also, and when her agent pulled her aside and said all the pieces had sold, Rose was fully shocked but giddy with excitement. She had laughed at the prices her agent had insisted on, saying no one would pay a tenth of those prices.

It was then that Alistair found her and dragged her off to a quiet corner. "Well, Rose, you have had quite a night."

Rose smiled widely, and then caught herself, and dimmed the smile, aiming at a more mysterious one, fitting her persona. "Oh yes, I am very pleased."

"Can you tell me more about your artistic process?"

She shrugged, finished the last of her wine. Alistair waved over a server, and popped a fresh glass in her hand. Rose gazed down at it, wondering how many she had had already tonight.

"Well, I get a model and I draw him. If the sketches are promising, I paint him later."

Alistair's gaze was steady on hers. "Do you fuck them before or after you draw them?"

Rose laughed, shaking her head, "Before, during, after... whom the fuck cares? Its just sex, Alistair."

"You told me earlier that these men were all your lovers, Rose. There's 10 different men in the exhibit. Wouldn't you say that makes you a slut to admit to fucking all these men in the last year?"

She couldn't help but stare at him incredulously. "Is that the angle you are going to use in your story? Am I somehow less for having sex for pleasure? Would you say the same things if I was a man? I think the fact that the show has sold out in two hours speaks that there are many who don't share your narrow Victorian views of sex." Rose stood up, her legs a little wobbly, and walked away.

Jean-Michel was around the corner, and seeing her state, rushed her home.

***

The next morning, Rose groaned as a crack between the drapes allowed a bright streak of sunlight to fall over her face. She rolled away, tucking her head down away from the light.

But seconds later, the room was thrown into daylight as Jean-Michel pulled the curtains wide open. Rose growled at him, and he laughed.

"It's 11:30, and I couldn't wait any longer! You told me I couldn't read the review of your show without you. The papers are on the bed."

Rose sat up slowly, and pushed the pillows into shape behind her on the headboard. Jean-Michel was there like an eager puppy, pushing one into her hands as he poured them coffee from the tray nearby.

Rose's hands shook as she flipped through the paper to the art section. Alistair's piece was on the front of it, with a large picture of the James piece. The headline was big and bold. A single word. ‘Slut.'

She dropped the paper, and closed her eyes, tilting her head back against the wall.

Jean-Michel shoved the coffee into her hand, and grabbed the paper. "Want me to read it?"

She nodded, bracing herself as she cupped the cup with both hands, blowing on the hot surface.

‘What do you call a woman who sleeps with scores of men and paints them in flagrante delicto? Is she an artist or just a slut?'

Rose held up her hands. "Stop there. I don't want to hear anymore of this crap."

Jean-Michel looked up at her face, studying it carefully. He was quiet, and he went back to reading the article.

After a few minutes, he looked up. "It's not that bad, Rose. He talks about your painting skill in the article also."

She scoffed. "Yeah, after calling me a slut, at least I can paint OK." Suddenly she just felt empty. Drained. She put the empty coffee cup on the floor, and laid down, pulling the covers up. "Please, I know you mean well, but I need some time alone right now."

Jean-Michel cleared away the papers and the coffee, wisely leaving her alone.

***

A week later, the phone ringing dragged Rose out of bed. It was her agent, Maria.

"Did you look over the envelope I sent you?" Her tone was brisk, businesslike.

"Hold on a sec, Maria." Rose saw the envelope by the phone, something Jean-Michel had dropped off a few days before. She opened it now.

The envelope had a financial summary of the show, showing hefty profits from the sale. Rose gasped at her cheque. "All this, from only 10 pieces?"

Maria laughed over the phone. "Oh yes. And the next show we can easily charge 10x as much. "

Rose shook her head. "But that's ridiculous! The art is OK, but not worth that much."

"Look at the rest of the papers, Rose."

She flipped through, the rest clippings from many newspapers and magazines.

"Have you truly not seen any of this, Rose? You are a hot topic! After Alistair's stupid article, many rose up against his views. Your art is the center of a bigger discussion about the meaning of female sexuality. Why women are slut-shamed when men are studs for similar behavior."

"You're shitting me!" Rose laughed.

But Maria was smiling like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. "It's fantastic, Rose! I've never had so much media attention from a single show. So many requests for interviews, TV appearances, radio, anything you can imagine."

"What should I do, Maria? I don't know if I can handle this!" The papers dropped out of her hands, fluttering out over the floor.

"Well, you can decide what you want, and I can make it happen. Most artists want their art discussed, to raise awareness of something. Do you want to be the spokesperson for female sexuality? Do you want to ‘come out' as your real self, or stay as the mysterious Rose Black? With a lot of media attention, it may be hard to keep silent anyways. But as a mysterious figure, you can represent ‘everywoman' more, perhaps. Have the message that all women have the right to own their sexuality and not be ashamed."

By the time Rose hung up the phone, she had a plan. She would keep her secret persona, allowing interviews over the phone only. It would also help for finding male models, as she could seek them out without being too obvious. They would sign non-disclosure agreements once in the studio. The next show would be even more ambitious, and at the prices Maria was thinking they could get, it would be enough to keep her going several years. A very freeing thought. Of course, maybe the interest was a flash in the pan, and people could stop buying.. Anything could happen.

***

Rose was deep into working on the show, when she got a rare phone call from Maria, who normally left her to her work, and emailed to not interrupt her flow.

"Rose darling, I have an unusual request that came in for you."

Rose laughed, thinking of all the strange interviews she'd done the past few months.

"A request for a commissioned piece. A portrait of a very wealthy man." Maria mentioned how much he'd be willing to pay, and Rose whistled.

"Are you kidding me, Maria? This has to be a joke."

"Perfectly serious. I've talked to colleagues and he's commissioned other pieces before, but never a portrait and never been willing to pay this much."

Rose thought for a minute. It was an incredible amount of money... but...

"Maria, it's tempting, but you know how it works for me. I have to be sexually attracted to someone to want to draw and paint them. I need to be sexually involved, know their bodies well enough to sculpt them practically. To accept money for it seems like prostitution, somehow."

Maria laughed. "I understand. Being paid for the art afterwards makes it feel less premeditated. The sex and the art would have happened, whether or not you were being paid for it. They were motivated by other things."

They were quiet for a few moments.

"Maybe you could meet him and see if you want to fuck him?"

Rose laughed. "Let me think about it."

***

He was sitting on the beach by the big rocks, just like Maria had told him to.

"Hi, I'm Rose." Rose held out her hand, and he stood up, towering over her by at least a foot.

He held out his hand. "Max. I'm very happy you agreed to meet with me, Rose."

Rose could feel his sharp eyes travelling over her, not missing a detail. She had tied a head wrap over her head, hiding her red curls under the colorful fabric. The large sunglasses didn't look out of place on the sunny beach. Her sundress was a deep rich indigo, the wind blowing it against her long slim legs. Flat beaded sandals finished her simple look.

Her eyes weren't idle either. He was very attractive, and her pussy reacted immediately. Usually that was enough to invite a guy to be a model, but this wasn't just any guy. Max was a notorious multi-millionaire, his face and reputation famous worldwide. His hair was thick and dark, sticking up from his face without a lot of product. His eyes were green, with dark eyelashes framing them nicely. His nose was fairly large, keeping his face from being pretty-boy attractive and giving him a more unique and interesting look. He was fit, looking quite yummy in a simple white t-shirt, khaki shorts and white sneakers. He looked a good ten years younger than she knew him to be, and she wondered how he'd be as a lover. As virile as the young men she'd been with mostly, or a slow-paced old lover? Rose admitted to herself she was intrigued.

"Your request was very unusual, Max. I've never done a commissioned portrait before, and I don't know if it will work."

Max widened his eyes. "I thought that you agreeing to this meeting meant it was a go."

Rose shrugged. "You must have seen my art. You know it's intensely personal. It's not like painting a mountain landscape or something."

"I can increase my offer, Rose."

Rose laughed, "God, no. Don't do that." She walked towards the water, letting the waves lap against her feet. Max walked beside her, his gait easy. He was a man who seemed comfortable in his own skin, confident in his success, but didn't seem pretentious.

Rose took a deep breath. "I think I am willing to try, but I don't want the offer of money over me while I do it. We will do this like I usually do, and if I end up painting you, I will put it in my next show. The highest bidder will get it."

"Highest bidder! You know it will be me, Rose. Why go through all this?"

Rose shrugged. "I guess I need to know my art isn't motivated by how much I will or won't make on a piece. Maybe we should set the minimum price at what the other pieces go for, and you can only bid if someone is willing to buy it for that price. I need to know it's appreciated for the sake of the art, and not the famous subject."

Max's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. "Without sounding vain, I think a portrait of me will be recognized."

"I've been thinking about that a lot. Perhaps you could wear a mask or something, so your face isn't recognizable."

Max shook his head. "It kind of defeats the purpose. I love the way you capture men's expressions in your art. It's what I'm looking for."

"Hmmmm... maybe we can figure something out." Just being near him was making Rose feel warmer. She hadn't had a session with a new model in several weeks, and had been working from her old sketches for the large paintings. Working hours daily on images of her past lovers, surrounded in images of skin she'd stroked and tasted. The thought of being with this man for the night made her heart beat faster.

"Do you understand my process?" Rose felt almost shy asking him, and looked out over the water.

"Well, I know all your subjects are lovers of yours." His tone was warm.

Rose turned her head, and caught his gaze, trying to read his expression.

"And that is OK with you?" she asked softly, feeling insecure. He was successful and wealthy. He could have anyone. Who was she, before him?

His eyes held hers easily. "Oh, yes, definitely OK." His mouth turned up at one corner. "May I kiss you, Rose?"

Rose was surprised at his question, and found she leaning towards him, and then she shook herself out of it. She drew herself up, looking him over carefully.

"My process is usually to meet a man somewhere, like the beach or the store or the pub. If I think he'd be a good model, I ask him if he'd be willing. An hour of sitting for an hour of massage. No money exchanging hands. Maybe we will be lovers. Maybe I will paint him. It takes more time to see that."

"So you might not even paint me?" Max's voice was incredulous, and she could tell she'd pricked his pride.

Rose looked him over, her shyness gone now. She was Rose Black, the artist, and he was a potential model only. "I have to see if you awaken my muse or not. If you don't, anything I try to produce will look like stick figures."

***

Rose couldn't stop giggling, and the line she was drawing was coming out crooked.

"I'm getting the idea that this one isn't really working for you, am I right?" Max drawled from the bed.

Rose glanced over at him, and tried not to laugh again. She nodded. "You are right. Try another one from the box."

Max untied the elephant trunk and it dropped from his nose. He threw it to the side, landing on the pile of rejects items he'd tried previously. Masks and fake noses either looked silly or didn't disguise him enough.

He pulled out a cowboy hat, and plunked it on his head, making a goofy expression at Rose, setting off her laughter once again. Since they come back to her studio, she totally relaxed around him, enjoying seeing this silly side of the big, powerful man he likely rarely showed others. The fact he could also laugh at himself was another point in his favor, a very attractive trait.

The laughter died down, and Rose tilted her head to the side, and gave Max a long look. "Actually, this one has potential."

Rose jumped up and grabbed a chair, putting the back towards the easel. "Here, straddle the chair." Max sat down, still in his t-shirt and shorts. Rose walked around him, looking from all angles. He definitely looked good from all sides, and Rose had a hard time not tracing her hands down his back and over his ass.

Taking the hat off his head, she pulled the loosely tied bandana off the hatband, and put the hat back on him, pulling the brim low. She shook out the bandana, and folding it into a triangle, tied it to cover his nose and drape over the bottom half of his face.

"OK, now fold your arms on the back of the chair, and rest your chin against them." Rose backed up, and then came forward to make some small adjustments.

Sitting back behind the easel, she looked over at Max. His eyes seemed larger and more intense, peering at her from below the brim of the hat. He embodied the idea of the dangerous cowboy, something a bit wild and untamed.

Rose swallowed hard, and began sketching, the charcoal flying across the paper. There was suddenly a heavy stillness to the room, and each time she glanced up to Max, his eyes seemed warmer with the building tension.

Finishing the sketch, she leaned back, stretching her back. "Did you bring that suitcase of clothes like I asked?"

Max sat up, pulling down the bandana. "Yes, it's in my car."

"Would you mind getting it? Sometimes getting the clothes closer to what's in my mind helps."

Max was gone and back quickly. Rose stood beside him as he flipped the case open on the bed. It felt strangely intimate to be going through his clothes.

Rose pulled out a pair of jeans, good old Levi's. He also had a plaid shirt. "Would you put these on?"

Max smiled, and before Rose could signal him to go into the bathroom, he was slipping his shorts off. Rose watched, unable to look away, as he pulled on the jeans, molding perfectly to his legs and ass. He pulled off the t-shirt slowly, making a show of it, and smiling down at Rose's flushed face as he buttoned up the shirt.

"Leave it unbuttoned." Rose said, and led him over to the bed. "Lie down."

He was very willing, and his eyes followed her movements like a predator about to spring.

"Put your hands together." Rose grabbed a length of rope, and tied them together. Grabbing the bandana, she folded it and tied it over his mouth, a 3" wide strip of fabric covering his mouth, but not between his lips like a true gag. She messed up his hair, and placed the hat nearby, upside-down, like it had been knocked off.

Rose went back to the easel, and drew fast, her hand flying. Her eyes traced over his body, his long jean-clad legs, his bare chest.

By the time she came over to untie his hands, the tension between them was palpable.

"Perhaps it's time for my massage, Rose. It's been over an hour." Max said mildly, the tone a total mismatch for the heat in his eyes.

Rose pushed him to roll over onto his stomach, stripping the shirt off him, leaving him in his jeans. His ass in those jeans was a thing of pure masculine beauty. Grabbing the oil, she drew a line down his spine. Being able to touch him was wonderful, after letting her eyes trace over his body for the last hour. Max moaned as her hands worked over him, soothing away the tension in his shoulders and neck.

"Mmmmm you are a very good masseuse, Rose. But I really want to touch you too." Max's voice was low and sensual.

"Not yet, Max. Take off your pants. I want to massage your legs." Rose rolled to the side, watching avidly as Max stripped down to his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Without her asking, he stripped them off also, naked and unashamed in front of her.

He laid down on his back and closed his eyes. His erection was standing up straight, and Rose couldn't take her eyes off it. He was thick and long and perfect. She wanted to straddle him, and take him deep, fuck him hard, until they were both sweaty and shaking. Soon, soon, she told herself, pouring oil over his chest and down his legs.

Her hands worked into his muscles, stroked his skin. She learned his body with her hands, covering ever inch. The massage was almost more important than the sex. To really truly be able to draw him, paint him later, she needed this now. To imprint his body in her brain before the sex, before her libido took over.

Finally, she stood, and stripped off her clothes. Naked, she laid on her stomach beside him. "Ok, time for my massage, Max. Do your worst."

He was up to the challenge, and he swept her hair out of the way before coating her in oil and stroking deep into her sore shoulders, down her arms and carefully working over her hands. Her back and legs were equally spoiled with attention. He was definitely the best of all the models she'd had, and she wondered if he'd taken a course in it, or just picked it up from her massage or others he'd received.

He had her very relaxed by the time he rolled her over and leaned over, looking her in the eyes as he lowered his face to hers, and gave her a gentle kiss. Rose wrapped her arms around him, and he pressed his body along the length of hers as their kiss deepened. Feeling his erection pressing against her stomach sent her arousal spiraling up again.

Reaching over to the bedside table, Rose grabbed a condom. "Hope you don't mind, Max, but I really need to fuck you. Right now."

Max laughed, and grabbed the package from her fingers. "No arguments here, honey." In seconds he had the condom on and he was between her legs, rubbing his hard length over her wet pussy lips. She moaned at the sensation, shifting her hips to get the position right, and his cockhead was pushing inside her. Finally. Instead of slamming it deep, he pushed in slowly, looking down at her face the whole time. It felt very intimate, connected. She was intensely aware of her cunt stretching around him, how thick and hard he felt, filling her so well.

Rose grabbed his gorgeous ass, and met each of his thrusts. He seemed to love pulling out slowly, and slamming it in hard and fast, and Rose matched him. It didn't take much before she was grinding against him, begging for it hard and fast, and he accommodated her, feeling as she peaked and came hard, shaking in his arms. A few more deep, hard strokes, and he joined her, moaning as she squeezed her internal muscles tighter around his throbbing cock.

"I so needed that. Thanks." Rose kissed his shoulder and smiled.

Max laughed, and rolled off onto his back. "Happy to oblige, ma'am." He made a motion like tapping the edge of his cowboy hat.

Rose punched him in the arm. "Are you bugging me because I made you dress up like a cowboy?"

Max smiled, his eyes all tease. "No, I'm bugging you because it got you all hot and bothered when you dressed me up like a cowboy. And tied me up!"

"Just for that, I won't put on the French maid costume or let you tie me up." Rose shot back.

"French maid???" Max smiled, and leaned over to kiss Rose's neck. "Can you do a French accent?"

"Oui, monsieur" Rose said back, and then moaned as Max bit into her neck gently. She'd always loved that. His hands moved to cover her breasts, stroking over them and playing with her nipples until they were very hard and sensitive. He undid the braid her hair was in, and pulled the long strands over her breasts, tickling the hair over her sensitive skin. He sat back, and looked down at her.

"I wish I was an artist right now. I would paint you like this, your skin all creamy white, your nipples a deep raspberry, wet from being sucked and worshipped, your red curls framing your perfect breasts." His hands traced over her skin, and Rose felt very beautiful, sexy.

Max laid on his back, and looked over at Rose. "Would you straddle my face? I want to eat that sweet pussy of yours."

Rose couldn't resist, and soon his hands were on her hips, pulling her down to his face. She held onto the headboard, and moaned as he licked her with long strokes of his tongue, his mouth very eager to taste every bit he could reach. He licked, sucked, pushed his tongue inside, kissed and lightly bit her. Soon, she was about to reach her peak, and her legs were shaking. She rolled onto her back, and he dived between her legs, licking her clit and pushing his fingers inside, until she cried out, her orgasm long and intense, his attentions making it go even longer.

Still trying to catch her breath, Max had donned another condom and pushed slowly into her sensitive cunt. "Oh Rose, you feel so hot and tight." He leaned down, and kissed her slowly. He rolled over onto his back, taking her with him, and kept kissing her.

Rose could feel her arousal growing again, and began moving over Max, grinding her cunt on his cock slowly. He groaned, and she loved knowing she could give him as much pleasure as he'd given her.

Her pace picked up, and he cupped her breasts, squeezing them gently, as she moved. She reached down and grabbed his hands, and pinned them to the bed with hers. Looking down into his eyes, she fucked him hard, slamming her cunt down onto him over and over like she'd imagined doing to him when she was sketching him. He came first, and she let go of his hands to rub her clit hard the last couple strokes, rushing to meet him.

The rest of night was a blur of short naps between bouts of hot sex. Anytime she woke to Max's touch, she eagerly returned his attentions, her libido rising to meet his.

***

The next morning, the sunshine streamed over the bed. As Rose returned from the bathroom, Max was stretched out across the bed on his stomach. The bed sheet covered his ass and his legs, and he lifted his head to look over his shoulder at her. His hair was messed up from sleep and all the sex, and his expression was that of a sexually satisfied man. The perfect shot.

"Stay right there, Max." Rose jumped behind the easel, completely naked, and drew quickly.

After a few minutes, she was satisfied, and crawled up on the bed, pulling the bed sheet away and admiring his naked body. She traced down his back, over his ass, and down his legs, her hands running lightly up and down. Max moaned, and spread his legs. Rose knelt between his legs, and kissed down his back, still stroking over his skin, letting her breasts, her stomach, rub against him. Stroking over his ass, she admired the round shape, and stroked between his legs. She traced over his asshole, his taint, and the back of his balls. Max wiggled under her touch, widening his legs further, encouraging more.

Lying down, she got her face between his legs, and kissed his taint, and then licked the back of his balls. "How about you get up on all fours?" Rose said softly. Max shifted and it was much easier for Rose to get her face right between his legs, kissing and sucking his taint and balls, while her hands found his cock very thick and hard. She grabbed the lube from the bedside table, and coated his cock, making it easier to stroke as she tea bagged him. With a lubed finger, she played over his ass, getting it slippery before pushing her fingertip inside. By now, Max was moving, thrusting his cock against her hand, and she kept her grip firm and kept up the attention on his balls and ass.

Turning over on her back, she encouraged Max to lower down. Straddling her face, his balls nudged her lips as she opened wide. She sucked them in, loving them in her mouth. He stroked his cock fast, close to the edge. She could feel his balls tighten, and let them go. "Give me your cum, Max."

Max looked down as her face, giving the final strokes before he froze. She opened her mouth and he pressed the head of his cockhead against her bottom lip. He shot hard, giving her a big mouthful, even after a night of sex. She took every drop, and sucked the tip into her mouth, licking it gently.

***

Later, cuddling and considering getting up for breakfast, Max turned to Rose and looked her directly in the eye.

"So, are you going to do the painting?"

Rose smiled. "Yes, I think my muse is sufficiently inspired."

"Do we really have to go through with putting the piece in the show and auctioning it?"

Rose sighed. "Max, you know it's all part of the deal. I won't go ahead with the work without that. I need this and I take my work too seriously to fuck around with it."

Max sighed and rolled on his back, stretching. "Well, I had to ask. You know, not many people say no to me anymore. Or say no to money. You are one of the few. I feel more myself around you, like you aren't that impressed by me."

Rose smiled. "I've been around wealthy people growing up, and I know being wealthy doesn't guarantee happiness. It's nice to know my work is selling for healthy amounts, more as an indicator that it's in demand than for the actual cash value. I'm not a starving artist, but I have a deep respect for talent and I am lucky enough I don't have to compromise my art for cash."

He stroked the back of her hand, smoothing over the silky texture. "Can we hang out again? Go for a normal date or something?"

Rose sat straight up, and looked at Max. He was serious. Her breath caught, and she didn't know what to say. Needing a minute, she got up and went to the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind her.

Rose's mind was in a whirl from that question. Max was a very eligible bachelor, and her mother would be very impressed if Rose was seen out and about with him. It would be too strange to do every opposite her old ways, her old lifestyle, and end up dating a guy her mother approved up by fucking him the first night they met. She laughed quietly to herself in the mirror at the thought.

A couple minutes later, Rose came out and sat on the edge of the bed, Max looking at her curiously. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Sorry I left you hanging there. I do like being with you, Max. But going out in public with you means media, and I'm not sure I'm up for that."

"Couldn't you ramp up the Rose Black thing and wear elaborate masks like Lady Gaga? We could play it up and all the while be in on the joke together. You can even give the media some quotes about equal sexuality and that I'm your plaything. Use me for sex. Please!" Max was playful but very convincing, and Rose was flattered that he seemed so interested.

"Hmmmm... maybe after the show. It's only a few months away and if we're seen together before then, everyone will be looking for your painting at the show. I don't want to make it that obvious."

Max rolled his eyes, making Rose laugh. He sighed dramatically. "Well, can I at least come by for some nookie?"

"Hmmm... maybe. I'll give you an email address and maybe if you ask nicely, I'll let you come over." Max was clearly not used to not getting his way, but Rose secretly thought it likely would make him more interested if she wasn't that easy to get. Playing hard to get? Seemed ironic after fucking each other senseless all night. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to be ‘gotten'. She hadn't been interested in having a relationship for ages, enjoying playing around with fuck buddies and her models when she wanted male company.

...


End file.
